


Catalysis

by baroque_mongoose



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Gen, Just Add Kittens, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 17:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3258764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroque_mongoose/pseuds/baroque_mongoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krosp suddenly finds himself confronting the realities of fatherhood.  Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, he has Agatha around to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catalysis

“Hey,” said Violetta. “Pretty kitty.”

We all looked. There was, indeed, a very beautiful tortoiseshell cat walking elegantly up to us, carrying a small fluffy kitten in her mouth. As we watched, she stepped straight up to Krosp and deposited the kitten in front of him.

“Oh, no,” said Krosp. “You can't prove anything.”

“Miaow,” replied the tortoiseshell.

“What do you think you're going to do, get a paternity test?” Krosp demanded.

“Actually,” said Lady Heterodyne, grinning suddenly, “I can arrange that.”

“Hey!” said Krosp, indignantly. “Whose side are you on?”

“I'm on the kitten's side,” replied Lady Heterodyne. “It's the cutest thing I've seen in weeks.”

Now, I will admit that I was myself not unmoved by its charm. I have always liked cats, and this little creature would have melted the heart of a stone troll. Even so, there were, as always, the practicalities to consider. A kitten is not like a Wasp Eater; it cannot just cheerfully share everything the humans are eating. It needs a very different diet. Then there is the business of litter trays, of course, and something must be provided to allow it to sharpen its claws or it will do so on the nearest item of furniture, or, failing that, possibly someone's leg. In our particular case, there was also the question of how it was likely to get on with the Wasp Eater; not to mention the fact that, if it really was Krosp's, it was a very moot question how it would turn out.

“I... am not sure it would be entirely fair to the kitten if we were to take it with us,” I said.

“Sensible man, Wooster,” replied Krosp, approvingly. I was fairly sure that was the first time he had ever said that to me.

“Is it a little boy or a little girl?” asked Zeetha. This was also a sensible question. Even if we could cope with one kitten now, it would be as well to know if we were running the risk of ending up with a lot of kittens later.

“I should think it's pretty hard to tell under all that fluff,” Violetta observed.

Lady Heterodyne picked it up and examined it carefully. It purred at her. “Oh, aren't you just the most adorable little thing ever?” she said. “Now, let's see... are you a...?”

“Wait,” said Zeetha. “Isn't Krosp supposed to be sterile?”

“Good point,” said Krosp, rather too quickly. “Very good point. See? The kitten can't possibly be mine.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Krosp, if you knew you were sterile, you would have said that at the start, rather than telling your, ah, lady friend that she is unable to prove anything.”

He scowled at me. “You're too damn smart for your own good sometimes.”

“So what happened?” asked Zeetha, curiously.

“I don't know. These procedures, they can reverse themselves sometimes, right? Don't ask me. I'm not a vet.”

“I think it's a boy,” said Lady Heterodyne.

“I don't think it can be Krosp's,” said Violetta. “It's too cute. Awww, look at its little ears!”

“Oh, pass the sick bag,” said Krosp. “Excuse me if I don't go all gooey over some miaowing brat.”

The tortoiseshell hissed at him briefly, then miaowed in a way that somehow made it perfectly clear that, as far as she was concerned, this was _his_ miaowing brat and he had better learn to love it, preferably now if not sooner. I admired her spirit; it takes a brave cat to stand up to Krosp.

“It seems to me,” I observed, “that we have two questions to answer here. First of all, is this Krosp's kitten? And, secondly, if it is, what do we do about it?”

“Do we want another Krosp?” asked Zeetha.

“It won't be another Krosp,” replied Lady Heterodyne. “Krosp's genetic material won't have been altered. It's the same as with Jägers. Their genetic material isn't altered by the transformation, so if they have babies, they turn out human. Similarly, if this is Krosp's kitten, it's just a kitten.”

“You know, what you just said about Jägers is a bit worrying when you think about it,” said Violetta. “I mean, they live a long time. So, if your dad's a Jäger, you might well have had siblings who were born, say, two hundred years ago and been dead long since, and they'd have descendants, and if your dad hadn't been keeping really good track you might accidentally find yourself marrying your great-great-great-nephew or something.”

“I don't think cats normally worry about that sort of thing,” Zeetha observed.

“Well, quite,” said Krosp. “When you're a pedigree cat like me, you know who all your ancestors were for several generations, and quite a lot of them tend to be the same cat.”

I coughed. “I do believe we are getting a little sidetracked here.”

“True,” said Violetta. “We're talking about your descendants here, Krosp, not your ancestors.”

“Descendant,” said Zeetha.

“Debatable descendant,” said Krosp.

“The kitten's mother appears to be in no doubt,” I reminded him.

“Yes, well, you do know a female cat can have a single litter of kittens with several different fathers? Meaning, by extension...”

“Indeed,” I said, “but if she is so certain, one assumes she has good reason to be certain.”

“I thought you were on my side,” Krosp grumbled.

“Wooster's got a point,” said Violetta. “If she thought one of the local tomcats was the father, you'd think she'd definitely want to go to him with the kitten rather than Krosp. After all, she doesn't know where Krosp came from or where he's going. She's got to be pretty sure if she's going to let her kitten be taken somewhere she can't keep an eye on it.”

“That is exactly what I was thinking,” I replied. “Unfortunately, even if the kitten is Krosp's, there is still a very big question regarding whether or not taking it with us is the right thing to do. There are several practical considerations, which I'm sure I don't have to explain.”

“Yeah,” said Violetta. “What we have here is a small, cute, fluffy ethical conundrum.”

Lady Heterodyne was still cuddling the kitten, and it was at this point that the weasel chose to pop out from its usual nest in her hair and examine the new arrival. “Snurf,” it observed.

“Moi!” exclaimed the kitten. I am not certain whether or not it intended to speak French, but that was certainly what it sounded like.

“Snee?”

“Tk-tk-tk-tk-tk,” said the kitten, which is as near as I can get to rendering the sound it made phonetically. It appeared to be trying to roar like a lion, but all that came out was a staccato string of consonants.

I think if the Wasp Eater could have shrugged, it would have done so. “Shree,” it said, philosophically. It retreated unhurriedly up Lady Heterodyne's arm and settled on her shoulder, where it regarded the kitten with a kind of bemused tolerance.

“You two are going to be friends, aren't you?” said Lady Heterodyne, beaming.

Zeetha eyed the two creatures sidelong. “Possibly for a certain value of 'friends',” she said. “As in, kitten takes instant dislike to weasel. Weasel knows it could take out kitten with one paw, but has the sense to realise it's just a kid, so holds off.”

“It's not a _serious_ dislike, though,” said Lady Heterodyne. “It didn't hiss.”

“Yeah, well, good luck making friends out of those two,” said Zeetha.

“It's probably never seen a Wasp Eater before, though,” said Violetta. “Maybe they'll get used to each other.”

“There is an underlying assumption here that we are keeping the kitten,” I pointed out. “Now, I like the kitten as much as any of you, but we do have to be realistic. What is the best solution to this problem from the kitten's point of view? What is the best solution from ours? Do they differ, and, if so, can we reconcile them or find a suitable compromise?”

Zeetha rolled her eyes. “Wooster, it's a kitten, not your university debating society.”

“Kittens are why I _joined_ my university debating society,” I replied. “Well, not primarily kittens, of course, but sentient creatures with needs and desires. And since this particular small sentient creature can't argue its own case, we have to be especially careful.”

“Miaow,” it stated, definitely.

Violetta laughed. “It seems to think it can. Pity we can't understand it.”

“I could always build a device,” said Lady Heterodyne. She was starting to get that far-away look in her eyes which invariably meant trouble.

“A device to do what?” asked Zeetha. “Translate miaows?”

“You'd be on a hiding to nothing there,” Krosp warned. “Most cat communication is non-verbal.”

“No. Provide a suitable kitten environment. Let's see, we could start with a self-cleaning litter tray, and the, um, contents could rather easily be converted into charcoal and saltpetre.” She grinned manically. “And you all know what we can make with charcoal and saltpetre, don't you?”

“Great Scott,” I said. “Don't we have enough things that can go boom, Lady Heterodyne?”

“Yeah,” said Violetta. “I'm not sure we really need a constant supply of gunpowder.”

She ignored us. “That would be covered, partly for privacy and partly because, well, when you're travelling, obviously... Then on top of that we could put some stuff for climbing and scratching, which is so easy it doesn't take me to build it, and then finally the premium feature: a catalytic converter.”

“A what?” said Krosp. “Is that a pun?”

“That,” said Lady Heterodyne triumphantly, “would convert food scraps at a molecular level into an ideally balanced feline diet. Most of the carbohydrates could be converted into proteins, using nitrogen from the air. Anything which is normally indigestible or even toxic to cats could be converted into nutritious food.” She whipped out a spanner. “Now, to find some parts...”

“What could possibly go wrong here?” asked Violetta, heavily.

“Such a device would be bulky and unwieldy,” I said. “How would we transport it?”

“Oh, that's easy!” said Lady Heterodyne brightly. “Just make it self-propelled. If it has both wheels and extensible legs, it'll cope with anything.”

“Self-propelled,” I echoed.

“Yeah,” said Violetta, darkly.

“Huh,” said Krosp. “Kittens these days. They're spoilt rotten.”

Zeetha looked at Violetta. “Why do you and Wooster always start worrying whenever Agatha builds anything?”

“You mean you haven't worked that out yet?” asked Violetta.

“Might I remind you, Zeetha,” I said, “that we are specifically discussing what is essentially going to be a moderately large clank, designed to meet the needs of a small, excitable, and above all highly unpredictable kitten? Oh, and apparently to make gunpowder as a sideline, which hardly reduces the need to worry.”

“Yeah,” said Violetta. “I can't see it being very happy if the clank starts walking off while it's, er... using the litter tray part. Or the climbing frame part, for that matter.”

“Come with me, little kitten,” said Lady Heterodyne happily. “I'm going to build you your very own clank.”

“Look what you started, Krosp,” Violetta muttered.

The kitten apparently was not interested in watching the building process, which I thought was just as well. It would have been very unfortunate if the poor creature had got caught up in the works because Lady Heterodyne had failed to notice it in her spark fugue. As she stood up, it jumped from her arms and landed on Violetta, who promptly cuddled it. “Awww,” she said. “Do you want to stay with your Auntie Violetta, then?”

“Oh, for goodness' sake,” said Krosp. “Will you listen to yourself? You, a highly trained Smoke Knight, and the moment you see a little fluffy creature you melt into a puddle of sentiment.”

“And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, Krosp,” I said, “just so long as that sentiment does not cloud the reality of the situation, which in Violetta's case it clearly does not.”

“You want to hold him for a little while, Wooster?” asked Violetta.

“Certainly,” I said.

She passed the kitten over, and it scrabbled its way up to my shoulder and promptly stuck its cold, wet nose in my ear, purring madly. “Awww, Wooster, he likes you,” said Violetta.

“It's mutual, but I should still prefer it if he were to take his nose out of my ear,” I said.

By the time Lady Heterodyne returned, I think it fair to say that we were all on very good terms with the kitten, with the exception of Krosp, who appeared to have no paternal instincts whatsoever. The mother cat had curled up in a corner, mostly sleeping, but every now and then I saw her watching us out of one eye; Krosp was trying to pretend she was not there. As for the kitten, we were all at the stage of trying to agree on a name for it. Zeetha, with her usual sense of humour, had suggested Gunpowder. Violetta was holding out for Squeaker, since he was quite a vocal little creature, whereas I wanted a rather more dignified name.

“He won't be a kitten for ever,” I pointed out. “He'll need something a little more elegant when he's older. Mercutio, perhaps?”

Lady Heterodyne bounded into the room, alight with enthusiasm. “It's ready!” she exclaimed. “Ta-daaaaa!”

The clank came through the door behind her. It rolled along on four wheels, but it also had four folding metal legs, which at the moment it was using to help with the steering. The basics were as Lady Heterodyne had originally described: a covered litter tray at the base with an attachment at the back which presumably handled the conversion; a somewhat rococo climbing frame in the middle, complete with scratchable surfaces, napping platforms and small dangling toys; and, sitting on top of the whole thing, a device which resembled an oversized mincer with delusions of grandeur, which was presumably the catalytic converter.

It might not have been so bad if that had been all there was to it.

“What's that thing at the side?” asked Zeetha, voicing all our thoughts.

“Oh, that!” said Lady Heterodyne. “That's the grooming attachment. After all, he's a very fluffy kitten, and we don't want to be always brushing him, or there'll be fur everywhere. So this does the brushing for us in a controlled way, and collects up all the fur into a receptacle. When we've got enough of it, I'll build a machine to spin it into yarn and knit a sweater.”

“Yeah... okay,” said Violetta, doubtfully.

“Pass me the kitten, and I'll demonstrate,” said Lady Heterodyne.

“I really don't think this is a good idea...” I began.

But Lady Heterodyne already had the kitten in her hands, and had started to try to persuade it into the grooming attachment. Anyone who has ever owned a cat will see immediately why this was not likely to be simple. Most cats will get into a box of their own accord if they see it lying around, but being forced into one by a human is a completely different matter. They tend to resist.

“Ow!” said Lady Heterodyne.

“Want me to help?” asked Zeetha.

“Yes, please.”

Between them, they managed to push the poor little creature into the grooming attachment, where it yowled at an impressive volume. It did not sound so much scared as furious, and to be honest I could hardly blame it. “All right,” said Lady Heterodyne soothingly. “Don't worry. You're just going to get a lovely brushing session. Think of it as a big fuss.”

She threw the switch.

There was a whirring noise. The yowling intensified even further. The grooming attachment rattled violently. Then, with no warning at all, the lid flew off, followed closely and at full speed by a small furry blur with some extremely definite opinions, which landed very briefly on Violetta's shoulder and then shot out of view. The clank beeped, a red warning light came on, and it attempted to give chase.

I will not try to describe the scene which followed, especially in view of the fact that I tripped over one of the folding legs while trying to stop the wretched device and hit my head on the catalytic converter, which rendered my subsequent memories a trifle muzzy for a little while. I am quite sure the reader can picture, without my help, what is likely to happen in a room not above medium size which contains a normal complement of furniture, four humans, two cats, one extremely annoyed kitten, and a single-minded but not very bright clank. Suffice it to say that I was not the only person requiring first aid afterwards. I did, however, notice the mother cat, who probably had more sense than any of us, picking up the kitten again and making a mad dash for the door in the confusion. I was not in any fit state to try to stop her, and, really, I doubt it would have been a good idea.

Silence fell at last. I blinked. I appeared to be sitting under the table. I was not entirely sure how I had got there, but it had been a sound idea; it was probably the safest place. Violetta was sitting next to me.

“You all right, Wooster?” she asked.

“Uh,” I replied. “I... think so. I hit my head. What are all those bits of metal on the floor?”

“Zeetha stopped the clank. I had to get you out of the way. You were kind of reeling a bit.”

Krosp was on the other side of me. “And when Zeetha stops something,” he said, “it stays stopped.”

“Yeah,” said Lady Heterodyne ruefully, from the other side of the room. “Ow.”

“Well, you shouldn't have got in the way,” said Zeetha. Her voice came from directly above us, and I realised she must be standing on the table.

“But... my beautiful clank!” Lady Heterodyne almost wailed.

“I don't care. If I hadn't stopped it, all the furniture in here would be matchwood by now. It was a menace. Now, where's the kitten?”

“Gone,” I said. “Its mother took it and ran away. I can hardly blame her for having second thoughts.”

“So the clank would be no use now anyway, Agatha,” Violetta pointed out.

“Oh, I don't know about that,” Lady Heterodyne protested. “I mean, what about Krosp?”

Honestly, I was astonished. I had no idea Krosp even knew such language.


End file.
